


The Uprising

by musicprincess1990



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Eventual Romance, F/M, Mild Language, Non-Graphic Violence, Rebellion, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicprincess1990/pseuds/musicprincess1990
Summary: “‘Uprising’ is an old word, not used much these days. Most people have forgotten what it means.” John looked her in the eye, pausing just long enough for her to become impatient, but just as she was about to question him further, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “It’s another word for ‘rebellion.’” Dystopian future AU, Sherlolly and Warstan.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> *waves shyly* Hi, everyone. I know, I have so many more stories to finish, but honestly, this baby just would NOT leave my head. I’ve been writing like crazy, and I’m actually almost finished with the first X chapters! This prologue isn’t the strongest, but hopefully it sets the right tone. I’ve never tried a dystopian universe before, so be gentle. It’s probably going to feel a lot like a mesh of several different stories by published authors. What do you want from me? I write fanfiction. Deal with it.
> 
> Anyway. Please, please, pleeeease leave a review!

After centuries of countless wars and natural disasters, the earth is mostly deserted, only a few communities left in major cities. New York; Paris; Rome; Capetown; Tokyo; Sydney; and London, the largest and central community, wherein the World Order resides.

In the year 2401, a man named Charles Augustus Magnussen saw a world descended into chaos. No one to lead, no laws to direct. With the help of several like-minded men and women, he created the System, to be run by the World Order—himself at the head, the others acting as his Advisors. Not a soul opposed the establishment of this System. The world was desperate to escape the pandemonium. They followed him like sheep, eager to accept any relief.

On June 17th, 2401, the System was implemented. Every birth of every child would be recorded, and each child, throughout his or her life, would be observed through teachers, parents, and neighbors. All observations would be submitted to the Career Council, who would then decide on a profession, based on each child’s personality and talents. At the age of eighteen, they would receive an Invitation to join the selected career. It was professed to be foolproof. Likewise, through this System, subjects perceived to be “extraneous” were eliminated, allowing young minds to focus on the core subjects of mathematics, science, and study of languages.

Four years later, physicians reported they had at last found a way to cure almost any illness, even the common cold. With funding from the Order, injections were given to a number of test subjects, and the results were astounding. Soon, every man, woman, and child over the age of eight would receive these injections, once a year, on the date of their birth.

The world seemed now at peace.

It would take nearly a hundred years before any soul was brave enough to disagree.


	2. Boring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’ll be honest with you, the chapter title kind of describes the chapter itself. But please, PLEASE trust me, it’s the only one. Bear with me! The excitement comes later! Please review!

_October 12, 2500_

Molly Hooper, aged thirty as of today, stared vacantly at the cabinets situated on the wall directly opposite her seat on the examination table. Any moment now, Dr. Stamford would come in and give her the usual injection, take a brief glance at her vitals, proclaim her to be perfectly healthy, and send her on her way for another year. She was anxious to get on with it, as she still had to be to work, like anyone else.

Her lip curled in momentary disgust, but she fought the fleeting emotion down. She was probably the only person in the world who hated her job, and really, it was her own fault. Dreams were foolish things, just childish fantasies, and ought not to be taken seriously. Her dreams of becoming a doctor herself were just that, and nothing more.

When she’d received the Invitation to become a secretary at Dunham and Kirk’s Mortgage Office, she felt her world crumbling around her. For three days, she wallowed in self pity, until her dad offered to call the Career Council and “set things right.” That shook her out of her despair. There was no need, she shouldn’t have dreamed. The Council was never wrong.

Molly started out of her thoughts as the door opened, revealing Dr. Stamford. “Ah, Molly,” he greeted with a smile on his round face. “Good to see you again. Any problems?”

“Not a one,” she replied dutifully.

“Good, good,” he mumbled, retrieving the necessary tools. “Mouth open, please,” he instructed, and she obeyed. “Fine, now let’s have a look at your ears… Good.” He inserted the buds of his stethoscope in either ear, then pressed the cold surface against her chest. “Deep breaths, in and out.” Molly nearly rolled her eyes. After all these years of routine, she ought to know to how to breathe.

“Well, as always, you’re in top form. Let’s get your injection, and you can be off.”

“Great,” she forced a smile.

Dr. Stamford produced the syringe filled with faintly purplish liquid, and Molly lifted her right arm for the procedure. The needle smarted, but in a matter of seconds, the deed was done.

“Right, that’s that for another year.” He smiled widely. “You take care now, Molly.”

“I will. Thank you, Dr. Stamford.”

“Oh,” he stopped her on her way out, his face a bit pink. “I, er, almost forgot. Well, since you’ve turned thirty, and you’re still unmarried… well, as your doctor, I’m meant to advise you...” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, you’ve only got a few years of fertility left.”

Molly felt her own cheeks burn with shame. “I see.”

“To come to the point… if, er… if you want children, you’d better get on it fast.” He ended this statement with a decisive nod of the head.

“Yeah, thanks,” she deadpanned, her sarcasm unnoticed by Dr. Stamford. “See you next year.”

Molly fumed as she caught the train to work, and continued fuming until she was two stops from the office. By that point, she had reminded herself that Dr. Stamford was nothing but a messenger, and the message came from the Order, against whom she couldn’t possibly form an argument. All they were doing was trying to keep the human race going. They’d suffered a lot, from what the history books said. The population, once in the billions, was now just under two hundred million worldwide. It made sense, she reasoned, and she decided to take the advice to heart. _Next man that asks me out, I’m going to say yes, no matter who he is_.

* * *

Her opportunity would come sooner than she thought.

Smiling absently at her coworkers as they passed, Molly barely noticed the tall, curly-haired man that stopped, looked a bit longer, and smiled a bit wider. She made her way to her desk, unruffled, and turned on her computer with a remnant of that smile on her desk.

“It’s Molly, isn’t it?”

She started at being addressed, and met the warm, dark eyes of a man she’d never met. Still, he was handsome, and seemed open and friendly. “Yes,” she replied. “Molly Hooper. And you are…?”

“Tom Jones. I work upstairs, in accounting.”

“Ah,” she nodded.

“I, erm…” he scratched at his neck, looking a bit nervous. “I was wondering if you’d like to go and... h-have coffee after work?”

Molly blinked hard in surprise. _Blimey, that was fast_. Still, she supposed this was fat urging her on. With another smile, she said, “That’d be nice, thanks.”

He beamed in response. “Brilliant! I’ll just meet you down here, five o’clock?”

“I’ll be here,” she supplied needlessly. _I’m always here_.

“Good,” he nodded several times, backing away. “Well… see you later, then.”

With a last wave, he was gone, and Molly turned to her work. She was a smashing good secretary, even if she didn’t like doing it, and everything was done at top efficiency. Her managers praised her constantly, though never offering anything more. Promotions just weren’t done these days, not without the consent or suggestion of the Career Council. And gifts or extra pay would imply favoritism, which was frowned upon even more than promotions.

Still, Molly dutifully worked her hardest, every day of the week, and today was no exception. She worked hard enough that she’d almost forgotten Tom’s invitation, until, right at five o’clock, he appeared before her. “Still in the mood for a coffee?”

“Of course,” she smiled, recording her time and shutting down the computer. “Shall we?”

Tom escorted her out with a hand to the small of her back. Molly suppressed the urge to squirm; she’d only been touched by a man on a few sporadic occasions, and it always caught her off guard. Still, she supposed it was something she would get used to with time. Besides, touch was mandatory when it came to increasing the population.

“So,” he started off the conversation as they walked, “I noticed you came in a bit late?”

“My yearly appointment,” she explained.

Tom turned to her with a grin. “That means it’s your birthday, yeah? Happy birthday!”

She shrugged. “Thanks. It’s nothing special, just another year lived.”

“Well, that’s special in and of itself, isn’t it? Life is special.”

His words surprised her; she hadn’t expected anything quite so philosophical from him. Then again, she’d only met the man a few hours ago. “I suppose that’s true. Thank you for the perspective.”

“My pleasure.”

They reached the coffee shop, and stayed there for perhaps an hour or so, before both their stomachs rumbled loudly in protest of the lack of food. The pair walked a bit further down the road, arriving at a small restaurant which, according to Tom, had the best chips in town. They ate and talked, then Tom walked her to the underground station.

“I’m headed North,” he announced. “You?”

“South,” she indicated with a thumb over her shoulder.

“Pity,” he shrugged. “Still, it was nice.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “it was. Thank you for inviting me out, Tom.”

He rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat, before blurting out, “Could we do it again tomorrow?”

Molly nodded again. “Yes. That’d be… nice,” she finished lamely.

Tom’s train arrived then, and he left with little more to say, but a smile lingering on his face. Molly thought about their date as she waited for her own train. He was… well, there really wasn’t a better word for it… _nice_. Kind, well-mannered, and he wasn’t bad on the eyes, either. She could certainly do worse. Satisfied with the pleasing turn her life seemed to be taking, Molly felt a smile on her own face as her train approached, and took her back to her flat.

* * *

_December 31, 2500_

Tom’s warm, gloved hand enveloped hers as they walked along the London streets. The clock was ticking away, and party-goers could be found on nearly every corner, in nearly house, awaiting the arrival of a new year. Molly had requested a quiet celebration, and Tom had willingly obliged. The two of them strolled aimlessly, talking between themselves, paying no mind to the raucous surrounding them. In the distance, the chimes of Big Ben announced the last minute of the year 2500.

Suddenly, Tom stopped, facing her directly. “Molly… we’ve been seeing each other regularly for a couple of months now, and...”

She frowned when he faltered. “Yes, Tom? What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I know it might seem fast, but neither of us are getting any younger, and we get on so well that… well…” he knelt in the snow in front of her. “Will you marry me?”

At that moment, the bells chimed, and the crowds screamed in glee. It was a new year. And, Molly realized, the beginning of a new life. She really didn’t have any reason to say no, and Tom’s logic was sound. Smiling, she nodded once. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Tom.”

He stood and pressed his first kiss to their lips, pulling away after only a moment. Molly had seen her parents exchange similar kisses, but always imagined there to be… a bit more to it. Nevertheless, she tucked her hand in the crook of her fiance’s arm, and greeted the new year with a positive outlook. She was engaged to be married. That had to mean her life was looking up… didn’t it?

* * *

_January 26, 2501_

“Hello,” Tom greeted her at the end of the day with his usual smile and a kiss. “Dinner?”

“Of course,” she replied, as she always did. Still, for some reason, her own smile was a bit harder to force these days. The plans for the wedding were going smoothly, especially considering they both wanted it to be small and simple, but she still finished every day feeling listless and weary. And she had a feeling she knew why: it was always the same.

The couple walked hand-in-hand to the restaurant at which they’d had their first date. In fact, it was the only restaurant they’d eaten at since then. Most of the time, they cooked for one another, or came here, or made do with coffee and scones from the coffee shop just down the road… which also happened to be the one from their first date.

“Hello Molly, Tom,” the owner, a round, cheerful woman named Beth greeted them. “The usual?”

“Thanks, Beth,” Tom nodded, and they moved to the table at which they _always_ sat. Molly sighed without realizing, an act which, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by her fiance. “Molly, you okay?”

She blinked up at him. “Yeah, fine, just fine. Why?”

“You sighed. Something bothering you?”

Molly seriously considered brushing it off, pretending nothing had happened. But this was the man she was going to marry. Who else could she share her thoughts with, if not him? Taking a breath, she began, “Tom… have you ever wondered if... there’s something more to life?”

He frowned in obvious confusion. “How do you mean?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged one shoulder. “I just feel like… it’s a bit bland, isn’t it? It’s boring. It’s the same thing, every single day.”

Tom took her hand in a placating gesture, and smiled at her. “That’s called structure,” he said calmly. “Routine. Balance.”

“I just… I think it’s boring.”

His eyes tightened in a brief wince. “You don’t think _I’m_ boring, do you?”

Molly stared at him in surprise, but her surprise came less from the question itself than from the answer that immediately came to mind. _Yes_. Yes, she found him boring. The only good word she could find for him, even after all this time, was _nice_. And what was exciting about _nice_? But, of course, she could never bring herself to say something so cruel, and… well, who else was she supposed to be with? He’d been the first man to ask her out in years. No one else was lining up to take his place.

With a deep breath, Molly painted on another smile. “Of course not. Maybe it’s just stress from planning the wedding. Lots of stuff to do.”

Tom kissed her cheek jovially. “Don’t wear yourself out too much.”

“I won’t.”

“Anyway,” he went on, glancing at his watch, “we’d better both be going.” Nodding her agreement, they both stood and left money for the tab and tip, always over-generous to Beth. They walked in relative silence to the underground station, at which point they would part ways, he going North, while she went South. “See you tomorrow,” he said with another kiss.

“Same as always,” she said through gritted teeth. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.

Tom’s train came first, as usual, with Molly’s not far behind. She fell into something of a trance as she sat, only vaguely aware of the lights and concrete that passed outside the windows. _Why even bother with windows on the underground?_ she wondered, not for the first time. _It’s not as if we can see anything worth looking at. Just stone and wires and lights._ Molly mulled over this for some time, the passage of which was lost on her for several minutes.

It wasn’t until the voice on the speaker announced an unfamiliar station that she realized she’d been woolgathering. In fact, checking the routes, she realized she’d gone three stops too far! Sighing in annoyance at her own stupidity, Molly exited the train. She kept it to herself, though, no need to make a fuss. The next northbound train shouldn’t be too much longer, anyway. With another resigned sigh, she stood and waited at the platform.

The very _empty_ platform.

Molly glanced around to confirm, and found only one other person in the place. A man standing a few paces off, dressed in black, with a hood pulled over his head. Though somewhat discomfited by his appearance, Molly shrugged it off and waited silently.

Then he turned...


	3. Baker Street

Molly glanced around to confirm, and found only one other person in the place. A man standing a few paces off, dressed in black, with a hood pulled over his head. Though somewhat discomfited by his appearance, Molly shrugged it off and waited silently.

Then he turned, facing her directly. She remained still, her English breeding fooling her into thinking if she ignored him, he would politely ignore her in return. Fortune, it seemed, was not on her side; from the corner of her eye, she saw the man take a measured step in her direction, followed by another. The distance between them was still enough to be within the usual social standard, but close enough that she could hear his breath.

“Ain’t seen you ‘round here before, missy,” he said in a gruff voice.

Molly didn’t respond, didn’t meet his eye, merely gave a half-hearted shrug of one shoulder, and pulled her jacket around her more tightly, as if that would protect her. If only the world were so kind.

“S’dangerous for a skirt like you t’be out at night,” he growled, taking another step toward her. He hadn’t made any move to lower his hood, effectively shielding his face from view, and thereby removing any chance she might have of identifying her harasser. Molly swallowed thickly, heart pumping, as he took yet another step, now close enough for her to  _feel_  his breath. “Anythin’ could happen.”

Taking a shaky half-step away, she stammered, “S-stay away from me.”

He moved then so swiftly, she was hardly aware of it until it was done. In a flash, one arm wrapped around her, his hand gripping her upper arm and pulling her painfully close, while the other pressed something against her head. It was cold, metal she guessed, though she couldn’t identify it beyond that. She’d never seen or experienced anything like it, but she could certainly guess it wasn’t good.

The next moment, an unknown force propelled the man forward. She managed to squirm out of his hold, catching herself on a nearby pillar before she tumbled onto the tracks. Her attacker wasn’t so lucky, and scrambled back up onto the platform just in time for the train to whiz past. No sooner had he made it to his feet than he was sent keeling backward again, by the fist of another black-clad stranger. This new person was even less identifiable, going to far as to wear a mask and wool cap. The two fought with swift, skilled movements, before the second ultimately won with a knee to the groin, followed by a blow to the head with the metal object he’d just had pointed at her head. The man lay still, no longer a threat, as long as she got out of there quick.

Her savior turned and faced her then, and she wished she could say she felt comforted. “I, er… th-thank you,” she managed, remembering her manners, but all fled in the face of this new stranger approaching her. Their steps were quick, determined, unlike the predatory stalking of the first man, and of a sudden, the stranger stood  _awfully_  close to her. Close enough to see a pair of green eyes watching her. Close enough to see the mascara lining both eyes.

Molly opened her mouth to speak, but was met with a mist directly in her face. As she inhaled, her vision blurred, then the world went black…

The stranger caught her and lowered her to the floor easily, taking care that her head hit the platform with minimal force. Then, in one movement, she removed her mask and cap, revealing a bob of blonde hair and a pretty, smiling face. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed the first number on her contacts list.

“John? I need you to pick me up.” She looked down at the unconscious woman in front of her. “I do believe I’ve found another recruit.”

* * *

_Blimey, my head…_

Molly groaned as she came to, her thoughts and vision equally blurred for several moments. Slowly, her surroundings became more clear. She lay on a somewhat uncomfortable bed, in a room with dark, patterned walls, thick black curtains drawn against the last remaining rays of sunlight, and two people sitting not far off.

In the next moment, she remembered the train platform, the man who attacked her with his funny metal weapon. She gasped and sat upright, capturing the attention of the other two occupants of the room. Her head throbbed with the sudden movement, but she ignored it, fixing her eyes on the strangers, a man and a woman. The woman had soft, slightly curled blonde hair that came just below her ears, and smiled warmly at her. The man, though his expression remained serious, seemed a friendly sort, his dark eyes kind and open.

“Don’t worry,” the woman spoke, still smiling at her. “You’re safe. We won’t hurt you.”

Despite her situation, Molly did feel a bit more at ease. She looked at the woman as she moved to sit beside her on the bed, and got a good look at her face. Immediately, she recognized the green eyes, and all comfort fled.

“You...” she breathed.

Her grin widened. “Yeah, I know, I’m the one who saved you.” She gave a shrug. “You’re welcome.”

Molly blinked. “You bloody  _kidnapped_  me!”

The woman reared her head back. “Well, so much for gratitude.”

“Please try to stay calm,” the man cut in, his voice easily matching the kindness in his eyes. “I’m sorry for the dramatics, but… we can’t risk letting anyone know the location of our base. Not until we know we can trust them.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to trust  _you?!_ ” she shot back.

“I like her,” the woman snickered beside her.

The man gave her a slightly wearied, reproving look, then turned his eyes to Molly again. “Look… I understand your hesitation,” he began calmly. “If you like, we’ll take you straight back home… we’ll have to sedate you again, of course, but once you’re home, we’ll never bother you again.” He smiled briefly. “You have my word on that.”

“That’s right,” the blonde agreed with a nod of her head, then something glinted in those green eyes. Molly suspected it was mischief. “Same old, predictable, boring life. Day in, day out, always the same thing.” She smiled, that glint still in her eyes. “If that’s what you want.”

Molly remained still, holding her breath as her eyes shifted between these two strangers. Those words gave her pause:  _Same old, predictable, boring life_. Damn it if this wasn’t the most exciting thing to ever happen to her in her life! Of course, it was also bloody frightening, and there was a part of her that just wanted to go back home, fix a nice cuppa, and forget any of this ever happened. But another part of her… the larger part, if she were completely honest… was curious. Had been curious since she heard one very specific word from the man sitting beside the bed.

She leveled her gaze with him. “Did… did you say, ‘base’?”

Matching smiles spread across both their faces. “Would you like to see it?” the woman asked.

Did she want to see? Was she utterly mad for even considering? Perhaps she was… but heaven help her, she didn’t care. She wanted change, after all. Taking a breath, she slowly nodded her head.

The pair of strangers led her out of the room into what looked like a sort of parlor. The design was strange… very old-fashioned, with similarly patterned walls, old books and drapes, and even a  _fireplace_  on one wall. And… was that  _wood?_  Molly looked at the floor as it creaked beneath her feet, and  _yes_ , it certainly was. She couldn’t remember ever seeing something of this size built with wood. Frankly, she wondered how on Earth it was still standing, and worried it might give way and send them plummeting. But the floor, despite its creaks, held firm beneath them.

“By the way,” the woman said as they walked, “I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves. My name’s Mary, and this is John.”

“Er, Molly,” she offered in return.

John smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Molly.”

They went down two flights of equally wooden, even more creaky stairs, and down a short corridor, leading to another door.  _The cellar?_  she wondered, but kept silent. John opened the door and ushered both women through. Molly was surprised to see  _even_  more stairs.

“Watch your step,” he advised. “Bit old, this staircase.”

Molly blanched, but pressed on, following Mary, with John close behind. The stairs remained intact, and they reached the bottom without mishap, and Molly looked down at the floor, which seemed to have changed beneath her feet. Indeed, she now stood on sturdy, familiar concrete, the walls made of the same material.  _Strange_ , she mused. Just when she thought they were done with stairs, they came upon another set, metal and spiraling even further downward.

“Just how big  _is_  this cellar?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Mary tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “You’ll see.”

They reached the end of the staircase, walked along a stone corridor, and stopped at yet another door, this one made of thick, imposing steel, with a keypad to one side. John entered the appropriate code, and the door clanked slowly open.

Molly’s eyes flew wide open as she stepped through the entrance. On the other side of the door was a massive, open room, two stories high, with a fenced, metal terrace acting as the second floor. Around the perimeter, on both floors, were dozens of doors hiding who even knew what. In the centre of the room, a shining, wooden floor had been set, and people were fighting each other there. Judging by their manners and attire, they were merely practicing. Not far off, she spotted three cars—a sports car, a lorry, and a huge 4 by 4—and in another corner, several desks of computers. There were countless people wandering about, or sitting at the computers, or fighting in the centre, all moving and working with undeniable purpose.

Just to her left, John spoke, “Welcome to Baker Street, Molly.”

She stood in silent awe for some time, but eventually asked, “What is all this.”

“We call ourselves the Uprising,” Mary provided, moving into her line of sight and leaning against the rail of the terrace.

“Who exactly is ‘we’?”

“Everyone who’s sick of the Order telling us what to do, what not to do. Everyone who’s gotten bored with the mundanities of everyday life.”

Molly blinked several times as she processed this. “So you just... do whatever you want?”

“Well, sort of,” John answered haltingly, coming to stand beside Mary. “It’s a bit more complex than that.” Molly raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Eventually, he went on, “‘Uprising’ is an old word, not used much these days. Most people have forgotten what it means.” John looked her in the eye, pausing just long enough for her to become impatient, but just as she was about to question him further, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “It’s another word for ‘rebellion.’”

Her jaw dropped open. “You… you’re all  _rebels_?”

“Someone has to be,” Mary drawled, “if we’re ever gonna fix this awful System.”

Molly frowned. “What’s so bad about the System?”

John heaved a defeated sigh. “I told you, Mary.”

_Told her what?_  Molly nearly asked, but waited again for an explanation. Mary glanced at him, then looked intently at her. “Answer me this, Molly. Have you ever felt… empty?” Molly’s heart stuttered in surprise. How could she possibly know that? Mary went on, “When you were assigned your job, was it what you wanted to do? Or did you dream of something different?”

“I… well…”

“And,” she pressed on, “have you ever wondered if there was something more? More than this bland existence, more than  _sameness_?”

Molly swallowed thickly. “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?”

Mary grinned brightly, and John chuckled under his breath. “No,” Mary answered, “I promise, I’d never seen your face before today. But I did recognize the look in your eyes. Bored, listless, going through the motions.” She chewed thoughtfully on her lip for a moment. “I recognized it because that was me, last year. Until this one found me,” she added, gesturing toward John.

“And it was me too,” he said, “until about ten years ago.”

“So… you started this?”

Again, they both laughed in unison, and Molly bristled for a moment, but soon realized they weren’t mocking her. “Er, no,” John shook his head, “definitely not. I was recruited, same as her, and same as you. But I was found by the man who  _did_  start it.”

She nodded in understanding. “And who’s that, then?”

John and Mary exchanged glances, before turning back to her with smiles on their faces, which she could only describe as fond. Finally, John replied, “Sherlock Holmes.”


End file.
